


What About The Night We Cried?

by Canon_Is_Relative



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 06:41:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/975663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canon_Is_Relative/pseuds/Canon_Is_Relative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here, today: a hotel in Florida in 1964. John, Paul, and Hurricane Isabel. </p><p>400 words. Prompt: Sometimes you have to walk away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What About The Night We Cried?

Like a storm on a Sunday he didn’t see it coming. But from day one, Paul wouldn’t’ve changed a thing that led them here.

From his hair to his jacket to how he slung his guitar across his hips and played like it was the only thing he was born to do, John Lennon was cool. Some days a ham, some days so sad and faraway that Paul would do anything to crawl inside his head, see what he was seeing, bring him back. He just doesn’t know how. 

Music. It's what they have, how they met, how they speak. Sometimes, Paul will hit a series of chords and John will turn around, a grin on his face like Paul had just told the funniest joke he'd ever heard in his life, and then Paul glows to rival the sun. At first it only happened when they played, like their guitars were the ones talking while they just listened in, the conversation going over their heads. They’d lock eyes across the room, and that was all.

But then came tonight. Holed up in a room in a crummy little motel in Florida because of a hurricane (which actually exist, outside of metaphor, apparently). Tonight they’re talking. Talking like words are going out of style and with words John is giving him his memories of Julia. Asking Paul how he’s supposed to live knowing that where he came from is gone. Asking how can he know himself when there's no one left in the world what knows him like his mother did. He wants to run away, John does, from the guilt of feeling like if he lets go of remembering Julia she’ll be gone forever, but if he doesn’t he’ll be buried alive.

With the kind of detachment he figures God feels when He notices it's raining in England, Paul notices he's weeping. He says to John what he says to himself when he, forgive him, shelves his own mum away in the back of his mind because she's dead and he has to go on living. "There’s a difference between running and walking, Johnny. Sometimes it’s right to walk away and let things be." 

With John's eyes upon him he feels the truth of words he'd never believed in 'fore now. Cor but he's tired. John falls asleep, his head in Paul’s lap, with the storm still raging outside. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you care anything about the Beatles and/or epic unacknowledged manlove, I advise you _not_ to go listen to [Here Today](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xae-JI5wrwU) right now, especially if you are drunk and/or emotional.


End file.
